The Sea Cook
by Ali Flagg
Summary: Five years after the canon Treasure Island. Jim Hawkins will be between 17-21 years old, I believe.
1. Surprise

It has been five years since my voyage on the_ Hispaniola._ I'm living with my mother once again at the Admiral Benbow. The old inn has been rebuilt. Larger, but simple still. The only original piece from the first Benbow is the notched sign. It serves as a reminder of the old inn to our customers, and a reminder to me of Billy Bones. While as modest as the old Admiral Benbow, the inn keeps its reputation for comfortable beds, good food and pleasant company. Part of my share of the treasure has been invested into the Benbow. I'm glad. There is something satisfactory in knowing your hard work paid off, and the inn will be mine one day.

Speaking of which, Mother isn't as well as she used to be. Her bones ache at night and she is constantly chilled. Doctor Livesey says it is only old age creeping up on her. He tells me she has many years left, and I hope his prediction is true. I think the Admiral Benbow would be too empty with out Mother. The whole building breathes with her work ethic and honest love for mankind.

I came down stairs one afternoon to start preparation for our guests' lunch when I heard Mother speaking with someone at the front door.

"There's no room, sir," Mother shrilled. I could hear nervousness building in her voice.

"Are you sure?" A voice boomed with shocking familiarity. "I am tired, and need a good night's rest."

I bolted from the kitchen. In the front foyer stood a man, parallel from my mother. His weather beaten face shone with humour. His eyes sparkled with a startling intelligence. Below the knees, one leg was missing.

"Ah! Jim Hawkins!" He cried, salty winds and clear waters rolling in his words.

Mother spun to look at me. "Jim? You know this man?"

Unable to speak, I nodded hesitantly. In my mind, his name echoed. _Long John Silver._

"Jim." The old sailor opened his arms welcomingly. "C'mere, lad."

I stepped forward numbly. He drew me into a bear hug. He smelt of salt and leather. Memories that had been pushed aside by the hustle of present day came rushing forward like the tide. The man released me from his grasp, seizing his crutches before they fell to the floor.

"Your dear mother tells me there's no room at the inn," he said jovially, winking an eye. "But is there a seat at your table for an old sea dog to rest his bones?"

"You're not old, Long John," I said with automatic politeness.

He roared with laughter, clapping a big hand on my shoulder. I could see Mother fidgeting nervously. She had made a point of turning seamen away at the door ever since my adventure five years previous. Knowing Silver was one of the mutineers I had sailed with did nothing to ease her mind. Worse was the knowledge that Long John had been the leader of the mutiny.

But Silver carried no weapons. No scabbard hung around his waist. No knife tucked into his boot. No strange lumps in his shirt from pistols. Casting Mother what I hoped was a comforting glance; I lead Long John to the common room. He hopped nimbly behind me on his crutches. Whistling cheerfully, he admired his surroundings.

"Nice set up you've got here, Jim lad." He commented amiably, lowering himself into a chair. Silver gave me a word of thanks as I set his crutches off to the side. Sweat cropped up on my neck as I thought of putting the crutches out of his reach. Thoughts of calling the police swirled in my head. Instead, I sat across from him, acutely aware of the inn patrons' eyes on us. Hushed conversation buzzed in my ear. I was sure we were the subject of discussion.

"Why are you here?" I hissed at him, "I could call police right now and have you hanged for mutiny!"

Long John Silver chuckled deeply. He drew out a pipe and filled it with a pinch of tobacco. Playing the part of welcoming host for the guests watching us intently, I offered him a match from my pocket. He took it, smiling easily at me. Wedging the end of the pipe between his teeth, he tapped the table with his index finger. "I want a job here, Jimmy. A cook's job!"

I sat straight up. My face flushed with anger. "You come here, after all you've done and demand for employment?" I struggled to keep my voice in check.

The sailor leaned back in his chair, balancing himself with his remaining foot. His eyes looked pained. I tried to steel my heart against pity for him. I refused to look away, to show weakness. It was his words that broke my resolve.

"Please Jim… I left my wife. She took the treasure… I have no where to go." He sighed, taking the pipe in his hand. "I thought of you. My only friend in the world. We are friends, aren't we, Jim?"

Keeping my emotions in check, I pushed away from the table. "I thought so once. Welcome to the team, Mr. Silver."

I turned away before he could say more, but I knew he was smiling gratefully at me. I heard his crutches scrape against the table, the chair screech across the floor. I walked towards the kitchen, assuming Silver was following. How was I going to tell Mother I had hired the very man who betrayed me?


	2. Adjustments

He insisted on starting right away. Once in the kitchen, I gave Silver a quick tour. I showed him where all the supplies were and told him to shout if he needed any help. I left quickly, knowing Mother was waiting for me.

Once outside of the kitchen, Mother beckoned me upstairs. We stood uncomfortably in her office, face to face. Hers was pinched with anger, fear. I tried to keep mine smooth, untroubled. A business man's face.

"Why did you hire him?" she hissed, thrusting her chin in the direction of the stairs.

"He is an excellent cook. A hard worker," I replied, my words caked in fake cheerfulness.

Mother's shoulders hunched like a cat with its hackles raised. Her eyes were slits, fists curled until her knuckles were white. "He's a _pirate_," she spat poisonously. "More than that. He's the one who mutinied against you."

I licked my lips, which had gone dry. "Not specifically _me_," I admonished. "And really, he was more than civil to me."

"Listen to you!" Mother's voice began to rise into a shriek. "Defending the man who could've killed you! Killed Doctor Livesey! Killed Squire Trelawney!"

All rebellion against my mother died, like sails deprived of wind. Why was I defending him? She was right. Long John Silver was a pirate; a cunning, thieving buccaneer. He had proven to be a good friend, but also proven to be a good enemy. And he had treated me as fairly as he could, given the circumstances all those years ago. My head was in turmoil. Fierce resentment and sadness still burned fresh in my heart at his betrayal. In contrast, loneliness from his absence called out for me to forgive and forget.

Seeing the distress on my mother's face, I straightened my back. "If he shows one sign of dishonesty, he has to go," I promised. Her tightened face relaxed a bit. Her claw-like hand rested tenderly on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Jim," she said with an unexpected gentleness. "I know he was your friend."

I touched her hand lightly, then left her office for downstairs. I was met with the inquisitive questions of our customers. I braced myself to deflect as much as possible.

"Who was that, Jimmy?"

"Looked like a sailor, eh?"

"Jim! Who's that one-legged man?"

I just smiled at them. "Please, please," I raised my voice to be heard by all, "he will be our new cook for awhile, alright? Let him be, give him time to settle in."

The crowd of curious turned back to their drinks and food, muttering to each other. Rosa, one of our helping girls sidled up to me cautiously. "Mr. Hawkins," she asked timidly, "Who is he?"

I gave her a sharp look. "Is he bothering you, Rosa?"

"No!" she protested. "He's been here only fifteen minutes… He's just started preparing lunch and seems very friendly. He says he sailed with you."

Unasked questions danced in her eyes. I could see possible stories racing in her mind, of what adventures the cook and I could have had together. "Yes, we sailed together once," I told her heavily, "A long time ago. Don't go spreading it around, eh Rosa?"

She shook her head, brown curls bouncing. "Of course not, Mr. Hawkins!"

One of my father's phrases came to mind. "There's a good girl, now off you go." Shooing her away, I felt old. She was only a year younger than me and so innocent. She hadn't killed, or seen men killed. I came upon the kitchen. The double doors loomed in front of me. I took a deep breath.

The savoury smell of soup wafted through the double doors as I pushed them open. The sound of a knife on a cutting board resonated through the small kitchen. I spotted Silver's crutches propped up against the wall, well out of the way. He was balanced comfortably on his remaining leg, chopping up vegetables for the soup. Silver scraped the carrots he had just finished cutting into the large pot.

"Ahoy, Jim lad. How goes things?" he asked, friendly.

"Fine enough," I said mildly. "How's the set up in here?"

Silver raised his eyes to the ceiling. "I was hopin' to put some ropes up in here. Be easier for me to get around." He motioned loosely to his missing limb.

Leaning against a counter, I picked up a potato. "Do what you will." I began rolling it between my palms. Emotions roiled inside me. He carried himself with such ease. He waltzed right back into my life after I thought I had gotten over the heartache he caused me. I couldn't believe I had let him back in, after so much.

"Silver," I asked suddenly.

"Aye?"

"Did you really leave your wife?" Realization hit me like cold water. "Or was that a sap story to get a job here?"

Silver put down the knife. He pivoted on his toes. He cocked his head to the side. I could see wetness in his eyes. "No, Jim. It was more like she left me."

"Oh." I felt my cheeks flush red. "I'm sorry."

The sailor shrugged. "It was bound to happen. I wanted to sail again. We were rich, comfortable." He resumed his chopping. "But I was restless."

"Silver?"

"Call me John, lad. Like you used to."

I frowned slightly. I disliked how relaxed he felt with me. After five years and a mutiny, I would think one would feel awkward with an ex-shipmate. "Silver," I said with emphasis, "Do you regret what you did?"

His eyebrows shot up. "Well that depends. Which part are ye talking about?"

"The mutiny. The whole thing in general!" I exclaimed, anger creeping into my supposedly neutral dialogue.

Silver shrugged, swaying with a learned balance on his leg. "I don't have an opinion. It was a thrill. I got rich, I pirated," he gave me a sideways glance. "And I met some good company."

I jumped to my feet. "If we were such good company, why would you mutiny?"

"Jim," he said tightly. "Don't go there. What's done is done."

"You didn't care at all, did you?" I cried. "After all your fancy words, you really don't give a damn about me, do you?"

Blood rushed to Silver's face. He threw the knife down. "Don't you dare, Jim." He warned. I ignored his warning. I ignored how much bigger he was than me, how much quicker he could be.

"It's true, isn't it?" I scoffed.

His large hand came whistling through the air and smacked across my face. My head rocked backwards, a starburst of pain exploding in my cheek. Hand flying to my stinging cheek, I gaped at him in utter incredulity. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I whimpered his name once before fleeing the kitchen like a puppy.

"Jim—" His plea for me to come back was cut off by the kitchen doors swinging shut. I burst out of the back doors into the midday sun. Tears gathered in my eyes. Silver had never struck me before. Not like that.


	3. Guilt

This chapter is dedicated to bean15. Thank you for giving my ego a big enough boost to start writing again!

Weeks had passed since I had hired Long John Silver. Business was incredible. More and more people were coming for meals. I was in the process of doing interviews for more kitchen help. I knew Silver's cooking was the only reason the Inn was suddenly doing so well. I was reluctant to admit it, but he was bringing in a lot of money.

"He's amazing," Rosa remarked one night as we cleared dishes from the supper rush. "Who is?" I asked casually, stacking plates. Rosa's eyes twinkled with enthusiasm. "Mr. Silver. Look at the business we've been getting," she swept her arm around the room, "because of him you were able to give me a raise."

I chuckled. "Saving for when you have children? I hope that's not too soon, Rosa. It'll be hard to replace you."

Rosa's cheeks flushed. Her hands busied themselves with a rag, wiping the tables. "I don't know."

"Whatever the future brings, the future will bring." Silver's salty voice boomed from the kitchen doors. He nimbly hopped into the dining area. The rope that held his long hair in place had slipped. The loose ponytail hung over his shoulder. I noticed the grey streaks in his reddish hair for the first time. I hadn't thought of Silver getting... old. He was such a young spirit, a bundle of relentless energy. He scratched the salt and pepper stubble on his chin as he leaned on the table for support. "Ahoy, 'Ro," he said playfully, "Hand me those plates, will ye? I'll finish up the dishes here with Jimmy." Rosa broke out in a shy smile. She put the plates in his weather beaten hands.

"Thank you, Mr. Silver."

She shifted the plates to the table and pinched her cheek fondly. "Of course, m'dear. Run along now." Rosa's face flushed again as she flounced away.

"Hullo, Silver," I said stiffly.

"Jim," the cook looked at me with full eyes. "I want ta apologize."

I took the stack of plates from them and put them on my own. "No need, I have no wish to speak to you," I told him curtly.

"Well I have a wish ta speak with you! I'm sorry I hit ye, I lost my temper."

I walked to the kitchen and pushed through the swinging doors with my shoulder. I dumped the dishes into the sink which had been filled earlier. I ducked under one of Silver's ropes as he burst into the kitchen. "Don't ignore me!" he rumbled. I turned as he reached for his crutches. On impulse, my foot shot out. The crutches clattered to the floor. "Oops, " I said coldly before leaving.

As I climbed the stairs to my bedroom, feelings of guilt began to creep into my mind. I crawled into bed ten minutes later the guilt had encased me completely. I had kicked a crippled man's crutches away. It was a deliberate, cruel act. Why had I done that? I awoke the next day caked in as much sweat as guilt. Nightmares had slipped in and out of my head during my sleep, each one punctuated with a haunting chorus of _'pieces of eight, pieces of eight.'_

"Damn," I grumbled before rolling out of bed. I was going to have to apologize to Silver now. He had tried for friendship and in return I blew him off, kicked his crutches. I had been a terrible employer. Still, the thought of apologizing twisted my stomach. Still, I was going to have to own up to my actions. Straightening my tie, I stumped down the stairs.

I knew Silver would be in the dining room, smoking his pipe. It was still an hour before we had to start preparing for breakfast. I could smell the rich tobacco from the hallway. Silver was definitely up. Rocking on my heels, I took a few deep breaths and then entered the dining room. Long John was chewing on his pipe, eyes with a faraway glaze. Rosa sat perched on the table chattering animatedly, gesticulating with her hands.

I paused and watched them curiously. Silver shook himself from his deep thoughts and graced Rosa with a charming smile. He said something to her which made her laugh. Tugging on my waistcoat self-consciously, I stepped forward to join their conversation. As I approached their voices died down. I felt myself flush like Rosa had the night before. "Um. Hello," I offered, "Ah, Silver— John. I want to apologize."

Silver waved his hand. "Forget it. It's in the past, Jimmy." Then his lips curled around the stem of his pipe in a kind smile. He extended the hand to me. "Truce?"

Tentatively, I reached my hand out. He clasped it and we shook. "Truce," I agreed.


	4. Chapter 4

Mine and Silver's truce was uneasy at first. Despite that he was quick to forgive; it didn't make him open up as he had in the beginning. We were content to remain silent around each other, toeing our new boundaries. It felt strange but also comforting to have his presence at the Inn. As I had told my mother, Silver proved to be a hard worker. When he was not in the kitchen, he was out in the dining room, catering to the customers. He kept people entertained easily with jokes and stories.

Often times I would come down to the dining room to see Silver hopping around, crutches abandoned in a corner, playing with children who were staying with their parents at the Inn. Rosa would join with him after finishing chores. I would catch myself leaning on the doorframe, watching them.

I began to notice little things while watching. Rosa had developed a habit of touching her fingers to her bottom lip and smiling shyly when Silver addressed her. Her laugh was different around him, as well. It was lighter. It didn't take me long to realize she was interested in him. It twisted my stomach to think of a romantic relationship between them. I had known Rosa since we were both quite young. It almost felt like Silver was invading my very childhood because of it. Delightful little Rosa, who kissed me behind the rain barrels when we were six years old and promised to be my best friend, was falling for John Silver.

It wasn't jealousy. The only time I had ever looked at her as anything but a sister was when we were twelve. Her hair had been down to her hips then. It swung when she walked in a shining downfall of brown. Since then, her hair had shortened and any amorous feelings had evaporated. I guess on one hand I felt protective of her. Silver's mutiny still hadn't left my mind (how could it?) and it hurt me to think of Rosa's heart being broken.

I suppose my feelings towards Rosa are what spurred me to break the unspoken pact of silence. One afternoon I found Silver in the kitchen, sitting on a chair and peeling potatoes into a large tub of water. I found another knife and came to sit by him. Taking a potato from the pile, I cast him what I thought was a nonchalant glance. We made awkward eye contact which held for a few beats before I cleared my throat.

"Silver," I started slowly, voice creaking as it sometimes does after not speaking for awhile, "I'm curious as to something."

"Mmhm?" His hands kept busy but his eyes stayed trained on me.

I dropped my gaze, concentrating on the vegetable in my hand. "What do you think of Rosa?"

There was no change in the rhythm of his peeling. "In what way, Jim?

"Romantically."

"For ye?"

"No. For you."

Silver lifted his shoulders once in a brief shrug. "Not sure yet, Jim lad. What do ye think?"

I bristled momentarily. "For you?"

"Aye."

I did not answer him right away. I could not control how one feels about someone else. I could not prevent Rosa from falling in love (or infatuation) nor could I prove that Silver would break it off with her. The one thing I _could_ control was my policy on employee relationships. There had never been a policy before, there was no need. What I had to ask myself was "would it be fair to direct something I really have no business directing?"

"John," I said quietly. He stopped peeling and looked at me, eyes narrowed in gravity. I licked my lips and continued. "Would you care for her?

"Aye."

I put the potato and knife aside. I clutched his forearm in a tight grip. "John, promise me you'll be kind and gentle with her. Please. She's never... you'll be her first for everything."

Silver's expression softened. He smiled in a way I had never seen before. It was not teasing, there was no hidden agenda. It was a simple, true smile. I expected him to say something but he simply turned back to the potatoes. I stood, touched his shoulder once, gently, and left.

My stomach twisted again. I could almost hear the doors of my childhood closing behind me and locking. I had just given permission where Rosa's father should have. It was an extremely mature gesture in my mind. Steering myself away from pettiness, I had cleared the way for something to happen. Hopefully it would end well.

It took a few days, but one evening Rosa came bouncing towards me, face flushed and eyes lively. I pretended to act surprised, but I knew what she was going to say. "Jim!" she shrilled, "Jim, you won't believe it!"

"What?" I asked warmly.

"John came and talked to my father! We're courting!"

"Really?" I said mildly, "Isn't that a bit old-fashioned? Coming to ask your father?"

Rosa shook her head, the beautiful hair I had admired long ago shimmering around her face. "Father was impressed that he had the courtesy to come to him," she giggled suddenly, "Father was a little put off by John's age, but he warmed up to him immediately."

I gave Rosa a tight hug. "Congratulations, Rosa. I'm glad for you."

"Thank you, Jim." She pressed both of her palms against her cheeks. "Oh, I'm all red."

I laughed and sent her off. I let them both go early once all the customers cleared from the dining and commons room. I washed the dishes and cleaned up alone. As I was climbing the stairs to my bedroom, I heard Mother calling me into her office.

"I heard about Silver and Rosa," she said, one eyebrow raised slightly, once I was seated.

I shrugged noncommittally. "Yes, I hope things work out for them."

"It doesn't bother you?" Mother asked quietly, placing her rough hand on mine.

"Why should it?" I asked genuinely. I had come to terms with it the moment Silver had promised me.

"Alright. Well, that's all, dear. You can go to bed if you like."

I stood. "Good night, Mother."


End file.
